Return
by charn14
Summary: Ficlet of a headcanon I have. Based off of the last episode of Merlin, so spoilers. Read at your lesiure, and leave a review if you like. I own nothing. Basically, it is the return of Arthur. Read more to find out.


**(A/N): So I watched the last episode of Merlin, and I was utterly heartbroken, but to cheer me up a bit, I wrote a one shot that I may turn into an actual story, but I'll need a story line, so…**

An old man walked down the side of the road. This old man did it all the time, here in the little town. He was treated poorly by the neighborhood; teenage boys constantly teased him, parents would tell their children to stay away from him. Many in the little town have either nicknamed him the Hobo or the Crazy man. The old man didn't mind. He was cold anyway, but he wasn't always so cold towards people. He was once a vibrant young boy who liked to joke around and have fun. That ended a long time ago; a long, _**long **_time ago.

The old man walked down the road, carrying his pack, filled with a myriad of items: herbs, food, mortar and pestle, and so much more. He was heading back to his little hut near a lake to prepare for a very special day.

As he walked towards his destination, a blue truck passed, honking at him to get off the road. The old man's face was stoic. He rarely showed emotion these days.

The man arrived at the lake. In the center of the lake sat an obelisk on an island or that is what the people of the town thought it was; an Egyptian treasure that had been given to the town right at its beginning. The old man knew better. He knew so much better. He looked out across the lake, and he felt tears prickle at his old eyes. He looked away before he cried.

He entered his hut, which was hidden within the forest next to the lake. He quickly removed his bag and the hat that lay upon his white hair. He removed several herbs and his mortar and pestle. He began to grind the herbs feverishly, almost shaking. The herbs were soon a fine paste. The man quickly scraped the contents into a pot and then filled that pot with water. He moved to a fire near the back of the hut and placed the container above it.

"Please, please work…" The man's voice was groggy and unused, or maybe that was because the man was holding back the tears that have been with him for a millennia or two. "It's time, now you better work."

He watched in earnest as the concoction morphed into the correct colour. He immediately took it off the fire and poured the liquid into a tiny bottle. He placed a hand around the bottle.

The old man then did something he had not done in a while. He closed his eyes, and called on the powers that had lain dormant within him for many years past. He felt his youth awakening within him. Even though it was a simple cooling spell, it made him feel a tiny bit happy again. The old man took the bottle and quickly drank its contents. It tasted foul, but he gave not a care in the world.

Soon, the man could feel his aging spell begin to wear off. He felt the long white hair and beard receding, leaving only a black mop and a scraggly five o'clock shadow. The wrinkle upon his face smoothed over, giving the look that he was only a twenty-odd year old boy, despite is impeccable age. He felt the old lungs open, and he could breathe. He felt every ache that he has carried with him vanished.

He scrambled for something that could reflect his image back to him; a spoon, pan, anything. He took hold of a metal plate and looked at himself; he looked great, more or less. He didn't particularly care for the way his hair falls, or the fact that his face was all scratchy, but he just smiled.

He immediately dropped the plate and ran outside. He had begun to rain. His hair stuck to his face as he looked up to the darkened sky. He smiled into the rain. He refrained from screaming as he did not want to draw attention to himself.

He looked out onto the lake, towards the island. He ran into the water until it met his waist. He knew it was time, but there was a part of him screaming, _How many times did you think he was ready? You'll just get your heart broken again. Go back into the hut and cast the aging spell again. _He ignored the voice. "He's coming back. I know it." He whispered to himself.

"Arthur!" He called out to the island. "Arthur, come on! It's time! Alboin needs you! I…I need you!" He prayed that Arthur could hear. There, the man sat, waiting, anticipating. He knew his king was coming home. He knew it.

After several hours, he finally gave up. He returned to the shore, every part of him soaked. He tried to hold back the tears, but his heart ached too much. He walked all the way near the road until he broke down and began to cry.

He didn't notice, but a car pulled up next to him on the road. He didn't look up when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong with you, mate?" The person said.

The man wiped away a tear before breathing down a large sob. "My friend…my best friend…I was expecting him today."

"No man is worth your tears, mate."

He looked up. His heart dropped to his stomach. There, standing in front of him, in a damned Westwood suit and blonde hair sticking to his head, was Arthur, the Once and Future King. He tried to form words, but none would come.

Arthur looked at him curiously. "Your eyes…there's something about you….What's your name?"

He smiled a wide, beautiful smile. "I'm Merlin."


End file.
